


Proposing a Union Takes Guts

by XxClexaTrashxx



Category: The 100
Genre: Clexa, F/F, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, The 100 - Freeform, super gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7586158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxClexaTrashxx/pseuds/XxClexaTrashxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is in love with Lexa. She wants to propose, but Grounder Style. So, she enlists the help of Lincoln.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposing a Union Takes Guts

Clarke was nervous. Okay…that was an understatement. She was beyond nervous. Of course she was nervous. Clarke has been wanting to do this for a while, but needed only towork up the courage—and that time had come. 

 

Clarke Griffin was going to propose to Lexa. 

 

Clarke had been wandering all through Polis attempting to find out the proper traditions of grounder proposals. First she went to Indra, who had been of no help. She mostly glared at Clarke until Clarke decided she would be of no help and walked away in search of Lincoln. 

 

Lincoln had actually been a great deal of help to her, placing the finishing touches on her plan to propose. 

 

Now if Lexa would only say yes…

 

…

 

 

Clarke found Lexa in the Commander’s tent, tentatively gazing upon the map table. Eyebrows furrowed, she frowned and moved a few of the wooden figures around. Clarke thought it was the most beautiful sight in the world. 

 

With a deep breath Clarke drew forward, eyes solely focused on the Commander.

 

“Hey,” she said, leaning against the table. 

 

Lexa looked up from the figures and smiled, moving to wrap her arms around Clarke’s waist. Clarke nestled her face in the crook of Lexa’s neck, basking in the familiar scent of vanilla and the hint of burning wood. She smiled at the last time she’d done this and had to pull at least a dozen pieces of twig out of the messy nest that was her girlfriend’s hair. 

 

Clarke placed a feather-light kiss against the column of the Commander’s throat as Lexa breathed a sigh. “Long day?” asked Clarke.

 

Lexa hummed and held tighter, unknowingly making Clarke’s heart flutter faster than she could cope with. 

 

“Hey,” Clarke said, smiling softly at a frustrated Lexa, coming up behind her to wrap her arms around the Commander’s lithe waist. 

 

Lexa said nothing but visibly softened into Clarke’s touch. “You need to stop stressing yourself so much,” the blonde whispered. “You need to relax, baby. The map and your precious little _figurines_ will be there later.” 

 

Lexa grumbled in Tridgelsleng but listened to Clarke, breaking from her grip to walk toward the throne. Lexa dropped into the choir with a grunt and twisted her head around, Clarke cringing as she always did she head the familiar cracking.

 

Clarke took a deep breath as she stepped forward, remembering the conversation she had with Octavia and Lincoln only a few short days. 

 

_Clarke had found herself seeking out Lincoln and Octavia after a careful month of deliberating whether she should go through with this crazy idea—and she had decided that, yes, she was most_ definitely _going through with it. That is what brought her to the spacious tent where Lincoln resided—and Octavia just seemed to be itching to move into._

 

_“What can I do for you?” asked Lincoln, organizing herbs into different containers. Octavia was splayed out along their bed, an arm resting behind her head as she read about “_ The Best 324 Sex Positions.”

 

_“I need your help.”_

 

_“With what?” Hunting?” I can’t imagine you need my help with fighting. In Octavia’s words, you’re “bad-ass,” and I agree.”_

 

_“No, no,” Clarke muttered, curling her fingers around each other. “I need your help with something much more intimate.”_

 

_Octavia shot up in an instant, book long forgotten on the ground. “Clarke…are you… hitting on my man?”_

 

_Clarke’s eyes bulged as she stuttered out, “What? N-no…no…NO!” Clarke scanned Lincoln’s face for any indication of him thinking the same. “I need your help with Lexa. I want…” Clarke sucked in a deep breath, her chest rising. “I want to ask her to marry me.”_

 

_“Marry?” Lincoln questioned as Octavia threw herself up from the bed and into Clarke’s arms._

 

_“She wants to propose a union to the big, bad commander.”_

 

_Lincoln smiled gently. “And you want to know the proper grounder rituals of proposing a union, I assume?”_

 

_Clarke nodded and bit her lip. If she was going to proposed to Lexa, it was going to be perfect and worthy of her._

 

_“Well,” he said. “It’s really quite simple. First, it had to be somewhere private—intimate. You want to be in touch with one another and share a moment that only the two of you will ever witness. Second, you must present your most cherished item. It is an example of sacrificing a part of yourself for the other—one of the many promises your will make to each other at your union ceremony if she chooses to accept. Finally, you must present a piece of yourself; most commonly a lock of hair._

 

_Clarke processed all the new information as her eyes glanced at the watched strapped to her wrist._

 

—Which brought Clarke back to the present, stroking the ratty leather band of her father’s watch as she stared at the beautiful girl she was allowed to call hers. Taking a step forward, she quickly slipped off the watch and stood just a few feet away from Lexa.

 

“Lexa?” Getting no response, Clarke bent over to cup Lexa’s defined jaw. “Lexa?” she tried again, receiving only a “hmmm” as a response. 

 

With a huffed breath, Clarke dropped to one knee in front of the throne and recited what Lincoln had told her to. 

 

“Lexa kom Trikru, Commander of the Trikru and Leader of the 13 Clans, I, Clarke kom Skaikru, Princess of the Sky People, present to you a proposal of union.”

 

Lexa’s eyes shot open, her jaw clenching tightly as Clarke placed her father’s watching into the palm of Lexa’s calloused hand. Clarke then reached for the blade strapped to her thigh and cut off a piece of her braid, internally cringing at what she just did to her hair. 

 

_It’s for Lexa,_ she repeated in her head. _It’s for Lexa._

 

Hand shaking, Clarke held out her braid for Lexa to claim. Lincoln had told her if Lexa were to accept her braid, then they would be—in Clarke’s world—engaged. 

 

After a minute of Lexa staring wordlessly at Clarke’s outstretched palm, she began to feel the humiliation of rejection and moved to retract her hand. 

 

“Wait!” Lexa murmured as her fingers circled Clarke’s retreating wrist. Her fingers slid into Clarke’s palm to gently grasp the braid. 

 

“I, Lexa kom Trikru, Commander of the Tree People, Leader and Uniter of the 13 Clans, accept Clarke kom _Trikru’s_ , proposal. 

 

Clarke beamed and leaned forward, placing her lips soundly against Lexa’s. 

 


End file.
